


Nicodranas Nights

by Lootenhans



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25566994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lootenhans/pseuds/Lootenhans





	Nicodranas Nights

Excitement kept Alena awake all night to feel the rocking and the slowing of the ship as it drew to port. Though the sunrise greeted her with obfuscating mist, Alena was up and dressed before even the ship's cook. She adored the seabreeze through her hair and betwixt her horns, and likewise enjoyed swishing her tail through the salty caress. On these sensations she focused while watching the clouds slowly part across the bow. She muttered to herself, with excitement for what lied ahead. She'd just left home on a voyage of her own. Set out to strike her own way through life with a heavy pouch of coin from her merchant father in Port Damali. Her mother had been a sailor for decades, and the resulting bedtime stories had put a fire in Alena that slowly pried her away from simply taking over her father's shop in the Moonlight Square. He traded in just about any moral goods that passed through his shop, but Alena whispered otherwise to herself."A reputation, a name of my own," she breathed out through a smile. She clutched the railing, anxious for the first peek of this new home beyond the sea. There was too much excitement fluttering in her to stomach breakfast, so she was still at the bow when the horizon melted out of fog and into a glittering shoreline. The white sands and verdant trees were split by the jewel of Nicodranas. "Gathering of Colors" in Draconic tongues, the name did not disappoint. It shimmered like a mirage in its gleeman cloak of colors.Alena's tail stopped swiping at the wind. She breathed once, sharp, in quiet awe of the delirious collection of city strewn before her. There were two arms of docks, both busy with a swarm of workers and a fleet of ships flying a prism of flags. The bot on which Alena rode steered away from the dingier docks beneath the shadow of a tower, and towards the higher, brighter piers. Alena marveled at the intricate nest of docks for a while, and startled herself when she finally noticed the towering sculpture that bore the beacon for ships in the night and fog. The lighthouse was alabaster white, and carved in the stout and motherly image of the Wildmother. The softly smiling face stared out over the waves, the protective grin more lifelike than any portside story could have imparted. It seemed as out of place as anything on the skyline. The smile shone over the wharfs and quays regardless of their clientele, and offered the same, simple love to the incoming and departing ships. As the sound of seagulls and shouting orders came to her ears, Alena shifted her wonder to the bustle of bodies. The drab docks were salt-stained and gray with age. The pillars were darkened and caked in barnacles and shells up to the tide line. The people on top were as varied in the color of their skin as much as the nature of their clothes. She smiled with glee and found herself shifting o her feet. Her things were already packed. Clothes and coins, plus an ink, quill, and ledger book, were all stuffed into her satchel. She picked her eyes between the strange mismatch of buildings, wondering what possibilities each of them held for her. There were stone manors in the center of the town, fitted awkwardly among fine wooden facades jammed in turn beside adobe, brick, and what looked like polished metal. Even the swathe of city that looked more thrown together than constructed was a wonderful tapestry of blankets, sails, and whatever else could be propped up to form a home.  
The ship clipped the corner of the dock on the way in, and Alena payed her way off the boat between the heated argument the captain started with the harbormaster. As she hopped around to bid them a bright goodbye, their surly scowls dampened for a moment. They both waved before they set about the fight over payment. Alena found herself on solid ground again, though the docks felt more hollow than the streets. Alena was woefully grateful for the steadiness of cobblestone once more. She had gotten her mother's wanderlust, but had never inherited her sea legs. Even on the few voyages she had taken with her father, she had felt off balance. At least she had not been queasy on this trip as on her first when she was knee-high. There was adventure to be found at sea, but dry, steady ground seemed a grand start to her own story.  
Alena was a smaller figure, but she cut her way through the crowd easily. Her giddy stride worried street side merchants and meandering passerby enough to clear the way, while burly crate catchers and merchants laden-armed with goods were watching out specifically for such reckless travelers. She had swum her way far up the street before she stopped to actually consider her first move. She stopped amidst the street and touched her chin to think.  
"I'll need a bed for the night," she grumbled to herself. She looked around at the merchants draped in shirts and shawls. That was purpose number two. "My coin won't last forever. I'll need to start somewhere." She trailed off. In reply, her stomach grumbled. "Maybe something to eat first," she laughed, looking up and around for something to eat. It was too comfortable a day for something chilled, and too early for something as rich as the paella Alena spotted on a table in the patio of a tavern. The windows of the tavern were clouded and crossed with iron like a lantern stretched into a building. Outside the door hung a sign carved from wood. There were a few women as thick as masts standing outside. They were laughing and passing around two pipes shaped from greenish wood.  
"Excuse me," Alena grinned, bounding up to them. She crossed her hands behind her back and looked up. The first woman was amber-haired and olive-skinned from days upon the sea. She had a wry smirk about her as she eyed up Alena. The other two, a taupe-toned woman with wheaty hair, and a black-haired and blue-eyed dwarf perched up on a barrel, looked to the amber hair. The amber-haired woman spoke with a voice suited to laughing.  
"Hello little breeze. You’ve just flown in from the ocean, no doubt." The others chuckled jovially. Alena smiled back.  
"I was wondering if you knew the way to a nice inn. Or a good place to eat."  
The women all smiled and looked up and down the street.  
"We don't know any nice inns, personally," the dwarf replied through a heavy accent.  
"But you'll find them aplenty nearer the gates." The whet-haired woman punctuated the sentence with a robust puff of her pipe.  
"Up this street a ways, watch for the bolt salesmen this time of day, and take a left when you hear music. You won’t miss the opal gates. Plenty of reverie for traveler's there." The amber-haired woman smiled and reached out to accept the second pipe from the dwarf.  
Alena grinned.  
"Thank you so much," she chirped, turning off to trot along the street in that exact direction. She was not entirely sure what a bolt merchant was until she was forced to slip around a smattering of market stalls. There were bolts of cloth the likes of which had passed through Port Damali, but their colors, trims, and a garish assortment of tapestries, seemed unique to Nicodranas' odd flavor of display. Her stomach growled at her to move faster, and when she paused enough to consider its request, a salesman saw his chance.  
"Silks, real silk! Beautiful colors, wondrous weaves. Dear miss, I think this color would complement your emerald complexion, no?"  
"oh-" Alena exclaimed. "No, thank you." She clutched her bag and backed away, returning to the tousled flow of the crowd. The man seemed kindly, but he was on business, his breath smelled like shrimp, and most importantly, Alena had no need for silk. Perhaps it was a luxury she would enjoy, watching her own shop thrive from her cozy home above. But that was for the future, and now Alena's stomach complained again. She huffed at it and closed her eyes. Her other senses would be a better guide in this throng. She tried to pick out something to guide her. She smelled spices, fruits, wines. She heard the hawkish calls for goods among the other sensations, and searched still, leaning forward on her nose. Alas, it was too busy, and she skipped ahead again to continue searching as the crowd bumped past.  
"Jewelry," the crowd of sellers called out.  
"Portraits!"  
"Seashells, straight from beside the seashore."  
"Plantain cups- spicy or sweet to your liking."  
"Ooh," Alena exclaimed. Her head turned with attention-pursed lips before her body came to a stop. She paid for something a little of both flavors from the stall, and sank her teeth in with relief from her middle. It was the perfect treat and a welcome new taste. Market stalls under large fan shades were quickly replaced by square buildings and shallow doorways. The streets widened eventually as she walked and plucked more bites to eat from the cup made of a leaf in which shee'd been handed her food. Somehow though, they only seemed to become more crowded. There was the distant whistle of a flute, and the strum of a lute melody beneath it. She followed the sound as instructed and turned the corner to find a massive gemstone arch.  
She had heard of the Opal Arches, but she supposed it was more a title than a description. This arch was at least two stories high, made from solid crystal that seemed to sparkle with an offset rainbow of colors, red glinting out of blue in the shadows as if it was on fire from the inside. The crowd slowly pushed Alena aside to marvel the creation, and the symphony of laughter and merry from beyond it. She thought she heard a woman squeal with glee from the balcony, and looked up to see one draped in finery, locked in embrace with a half-disheveled man in a robe hemmed with silvery thread. It seemed there were yet more wonders tucked into this city. Alena turned to continue through the arch and found a man in her way. He had musty brown hair and a measly half a beard, but it was his attire that surprised Alena. He was dressed kin chain and leather, the outfitting of the Crownsguard of the empire to the north. She had seen them before on business trips with her father, or accompanying wealthy merchants into Port Damali. This was not nearly as prim as those, which added to Alena's confusion. She was under the impression that all the folk of the Dwendalian empire were stiff in personality. He whistled softly.  
"What a pretty thing. You must have just landed in town."  
Alena swallowed the bite of food she had.  
"I'm just on my way to an inn. Is there a problem?"  
The crownsguard plucked the last of the plantain bite from between Alena's fingers and ate it rather smugly.  
"I would remember a face like yours," he said, spitting crumbs.  
"You're too kind," Alena breathed. She tried to slip past him and rejoin the current of the crowd, but ran into his arm. He had thrust it against the arch in a sort of lean he must have thought suave.  
"I can help you find your way around, mayhaps a bed for the night." His voice trailed off, and his smirk grew bolder. But it dropped when a shadow came over him. Alena heard an impatient huff, and felt the smell of the breath wash over her. It was thick and acrid. She looked up to see a half-familiar sight. The assemblage of armor and cloth wraps bound of a Zelezho guard, the wardens of the Concord cities, Port Damali and Nicodranas among their charge. He had a scimitar half-bared on his belt. Those details, beside their familiarity, were lost to Alena beneath his towering size and grassy green scales. Golden eyes peered out from under sharp brow ridges angled in accusation. The dragonborn leaned over the crownsgaurd most of all.  
"What's going on here, crownsguard?" The reptilian warble of his bassy voice stood Alena's hair on end.  
"I- she looked lost, needed help."  
The dragonborn pondered this for half a thought before he spoke.  
"Not from you."  
The crownsguard turned red-cheeked and seemed ready to protest. His ire was cut short by the dragonborn's claw shoving him along.  
"You dare?" The crownsguard sneered, groping timidly for his sword. The dragonborn straightened up and eyed him.  
"The Empire won't start an incident over you, Delven. Put your ego away before I report it." The dragonborn spoke now with an unimpressed sigh, as if he had seen this too many times before. The crownsguard sputtered, and eventually turned on his heel, grumbling when it was clear that the dragonborn was not about to flinch.  
"Sorry about that," he added in a tone much softer than his commands. It still had a deep rumble underlying it, but the kindness of his voice was startlingly apparent. "Delven's a scum. Welcome to Nicodranas."  
"Everyone's said that," Alena replied. Something about the dragonborn's jolly voice drew her smile back. "What's so obvious about me."  
The dragonborn smirked and seemed to swallow a laugh.  
"You've been staring up at the buildings and arches as if it's your first day in the world.  
“I'm glad you’re enjoying it so far. Are you staying long?"  
"I hope so. I plan to settle down here. It's a more wonderful place than I imagined."  
The dragonborn smiled.  
"I wish you luck then. You should know this district is a little pricey. And watch out for cut-purses."  
Alena nodded.  
"Thank you, I'm just perusing for now."  
"I'll be around, if you need anything," The dragonborn nodded and extended his hand.  
"Klestis."  
"Alena," Alena returned. She shook his hand, though she could not grasp the whole palm.  
"Let me know if Delven bothers you again. I'm sick of the runt. Otherwise, enjoy your stay, Alena." He started to turn away with a nod.  
"Actually," Alena said, regaining Kelstis' attention. "I do need some directions. Is there somewhere comfortable to stay that might not be as pricey?"  
Klestis scratched his headscarf.  
"Back down the main rod, turn at the garden with the yellow flowers. It's a slightly quieter part of town. There's an inn up that way called the Buttered Lobster Next to a tea shop. Which you should also stop into if you have the time."  
"Oh, thank you." Alena smiled and waved as Klestis nodded and waded back into the crowd.  
"Stay well," he bid goodbye before the crowd shrouded even his bulk.  
Alena stood still for a moment, watching the crowd pass. Despite the help, she could not help but feel a sudden loneliness pass over her in the midst of Nicodranas. She breathed and felt the heat of the day, letting it soak into her for a moment of calm before she plunged back into the crowd. One problem at a time. First a room for the night. She took off again, keeping to the middle of the crowd this time. She followed the main street, and seemed to be pushing against the flow of people as they left their morning duties and started to pour through the Opal Arches. Eventually she managed to pry herself to the edge. She looked up and down the street. On this corner was a bed of yellow flowers. They were simple, five petaled, and as little as a fingertip. They were nestled on the floor, under brilliant blue azaleas and stippled roses. They clearly were not the centerpiece of the garden bed, but the fact that Alena had simply popped out of the crowd right where she needed to be, that brought a smile to her face. The skip was back in her step, and she followed the street until it got quiet. Only a few people wandered the rows of arched doors and long balconies. A few elves in clothing that left most of their legs and midriffs bare, a few humans in lightweight robes. There was a halfling on the corner juggling citrus fruit to the delight of two travelers. Alena could pick them out as such from their earthy clothing.  
Halfway down the row was a bright red sign with wire claws and antennae fashioned carefully to hold a chain of glass beads that sparkled in the sun. There was a pat of yellow in the middle of the sign, and scrawled inside was The Buttered Lobster. Alena glanced around. It seemed a lovely place to stay. But before she ducked inside to settle in and plan, the sign next door caught her eye. Actually, the whole building stole her attention away. The facade was carefully worked, the whole title hand carved and painted. It looked old but not aged, and the soft green tones and yellow outlines were addictively calming. Mellow Eden, it read. The windows were filled with pots. Stout ferns covered the sill, and hanging plants were pinned aside like curtains. Short stands of bamboo and sugarcane were kept in deeper pots to flank the door.  
Curiosity overwhelmed Alena, her sense of adventure also begging for the rounded, asymmetrical angle of the door. She pulled the handle, which rose from the surface as if it was all carved from a single piece. Inside was humid, but cool. A small wind chime rung as the heat pulled out a gust of the misty clime. The place smelled wondrous. Like fresh earth and green trees, and a million things like spices that Alena have never encountered before. There were shelves with prices scrawled in an awkward hand. Listing the sale of dried leaves and berries in glass fishbowls and canvas sacks. They more or less seemed to be arranged by color. Green towards the door and autumn reds and browns back toward the counter. There were terracotta statues on the desk, through which rivulets of water flowed on their own. And a man, sitting behind the desk with a steaming cup painted with cherry branches.  
"Welcome," he said as Alena met his eyes. He sipped his cup of tea and set it down. His features were odd, flat nose, heavy brows, and long pointed ears with tufts of fur and round cheeks. His hair was a pale blue, and he dressed in an evening robe of a similar color.  
"This is a wonderful shop you have," Alena breathed. She beamed, almost skipping up to him. "It's like another world in here."  
The shopkeeper nodded.  
"Thank you, I spend a lot of time taking care of it." His voice was almost monotone, yet carried a comforting hint of warmth. He was happy with the silence, watching Alena's eyes flit from strange thing to odd leaf.  
"This is a tea shop right?" She asked, immediately feeling stupid. "I mean, a dragonborn, Klestis, told me it was. Beside the inn."  
The shopkeeper nodded.  
"Klestis. He's a kind soul." The man took another sip of his tea. "What's your name?"  
"Alena," she said. "It's been a nice day, but I fear I have a lot ahead of me."  
The man nodded yet again as Alena spoke.  
"What would you recommend?"  
The shopkeeper’s smile broadened, and he reached beneath the table. He produced a cup, similar to his, the branches painted by hand and unique from the other. He set it down before Alena.  
Mint." Next, he pulled a teapot as if from nowhere. It steamed happily as he poured tea into the cup.  
A wintergreen smell immediately filled Alena's head. It was cooling, relaxing. She picked up the cup and swirled it. She took a sudden sip and felt the heat roll over her tongue with an icy edge. It was almost alarming to drink, but the second sip was twice as flavorful. Quickly, she sucked down the whole cup.  
"My name's Ceylon," the man offered, holding up the teapot again.  
Alena clutched her cup in embarrassment, feeling heat rise in her cheeks.  
"I should have asked."  
"no need." He poured the tea again after urging Alena to offer her cup. A new silence arose that satisfied Ceylon. Alena squirmed in it.  
"What do I owe you?" Alena asked as she found herself halfway through her cup.  
"You've already shared a wonderful moment with me. Why would I charge you?" Ceylon looked her over. A knowing look lifted his eyes. "What troubles you?"  
Alena stared down at the dusty leaves floating in the bottom of her drink. Her shoulders released their tension, but her dreamy glee dropped in her stomach.  
"I just moved here. I want to start a business."  
"Congratulations, how grand."  
"-This town is wondrous. But I'm not sure where I fit in it. I'll need to work, and then I don't know what I'll do about finding a shop. Come to think of it-" Alena looked up, and saw a small, proud smile on Ceylon's fuzzy lips. It fogged her mind, and set loose her trail of thoughts.  
"Surely I owe you something, for two lovely cups of tea."  
Ceylon refilled his own glass, without turning away his eyes.  
"Every journey is full of fright. But you've done the hardest part. You made the first step." He smiled and tested his new pour, seeming satisfied with it. "If you insist, I will ask you for something." His eyes sparkled with a trickster's gleam. "A toast?" he asked, holding up his glass.  
Alena felt her heart slow for a moment, as laughter built up from her stomach and into her lungs. She giggled the return of her early giddiness and reached the rim of her cup to touch Ceylon's. There was a small clink.  
"To new beginnings," Ceylon praised. He and Alena sipped eagerly at the tea. Its warmth cradled Alena's heart on the way down.  
"I can do this," she mumbled to herself, not realizing it was outside of her head. Ceylon nodded in agreement.


End file.
